


tomorrow there'll be more of us

by DearTheodosia (DapperMuffin)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst and Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ghosts, not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28205988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DapperMuffin/pseuds/DearTheodosia
Summary: John should be dead. He isn't. But then again, he isn't exactly alive either.
Relationships: Philip Hamilton & John Laurens, past Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens - Relationship
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	tomorrow there'll be more of us

**Author's Note:**

> yes yes "wow creative title hur dur dur" shut uP and buckle urself in, fuckers (fond)

John opens his eyes. But, hadn't he died? How is he still alive?

He doesn't hurt, and when he looks down, the wound is gone. He lightly touches the place the bullet had entered—he thinks he can feel the faint outline of a scar through his clothing.

Where is he? The walls look well-furnished—a house? There's a crib against the wall, and John takes his time examining his surroundings before even thinking of approaching the crib.

A man enters the room, and John jumps.

"Sorry, I... I don't know how I got here..." he says, but he stops as it occurs to him that

1\. the man hadn't responded to him at all.

2\. the man is Alexander. _his_ Alexander. he looks... tired.

"Hey, Philip," Alexander says. "Your mother's a little busy at the moment, but she insisted that I come check in on you." He smiles down at the baby in the crib. (His baby?)

John takes a careful step toward Alexander, but again, there's no response. Can Alexander _see_ him? He waves a hand in front of Alexander's face, tries to put a hand on his friend's shoulder but it goes right through as if he isn't here at all.

So.

John is a specter.

He isn't allowed to move on, instead doomed to eternally haunt this house. His unfinished business has cursed him. He could weep but for his apparent inability to do so, and he sees he has been robbed of even such a simple comfort.

Alexander coos at the baby a little while longer, then leaves. John approaches the crib, unsure of what he'll find.

The child closely resembles Alexander, but his curly hair has surely come from Eliza's side of the family. His lightly tanned skin has a light sprinkling of freckles, and his green eyes seem to focus on John. His breath catches in his throat.

"Hey." He smiles, emotional for a thousand reasons he can't describe. "You're Philip, right?" The baby makes a quiet noise, hands reaching up for John, and John finds himself letting the boy curl his hand around John's finger.

So this is why John is here. He can't be seen, he can't be heard, he can't be touched, except by this child. Philip. Perhaps an eternal purgatory won't be so bad as long as John can watch over him.

Philip is only the son of his best friend, after all. Well. All Alexander is supposed to be is his best friend. No one ought to know what they did when they were alone together, and it does not matter anymore, for John is dead and Alexander is married to a lovely woman, and they have a lovely child together. _John_ is irrelevant now. But that doesn't stop him from wanting, desiring to protect Alexander's son.

So that is what he resolves to do.

* * *

Philip is five when he finally asks why his parents and three-year-old sister can't see John.

John fumbles for an answer, hoping to spare the boy the truth a little while longer. In the end, he sighs. Philip will figure it out eventually. He might as well tell the truth.

"I died," John says. Philip's eyes widen.

"You're dead? Why don't I see other dead people?" He lowers his voice to a stage whisper, and John can't pretend it isn't adorable.

"I'm not sure," John admits. Of course Philip would ask the hard questions, the ones where John doesn't know any more than Philip. "There are stories about specters, those who are dead and have unfinished business, and so aren't allowed to move on."

"Do you have unfinished business?" Philip asks innocently.

"I do." John ruffles Philip's hair, and Philip pouts. "I'll tell you when you're older."

"Mom and Pa always say that," Philip whines. "When am I older enough?"

John chuckles. "You'll be older enough when you're older." Philip isn't at all satisfied by this answer, but the conversation has drawn to a close, and Philip returns to playing with rocks in the dirt.

* * *

When Philip performs the song he'd written for his father, John pretends to be pleasantly surprised. (Of course, no one else can see him, what else would he have been doing other than watching while Philip practiced?)

After Philip receives praise and a hug from Alexander, he sprints up the stairs and throws open the door to his room. As John ascends through the floor, he can hear the fading sounds of Eliza attempting to convince Alexander to go on a vacation with the rest of their family, and Alexander, of course, doesn't seem as though he wants any of it.

"Did you hear me?!" Philip exclaims the moment John enters the room.

"Yeah, I did, Pip," John says. "You saw me there."

"I did," Philip says. "Did I do good?" His big green eyes gaze at John pleadingly, and against his will he's reminded of when Alexander used to look at him like that. Either way, he just can't refuse a Hamilton.

"Of course you did," John says, not just because Philip wanted him to say it, but because it's true. "I've never written a song, so by default you're better than me already." Philip beams, and John allows himself to be pulled into a hug. John would be lying if he said he wasn't proud.

* * *

Philip finds himself in a tough spot. Two boys from his college have him cornered a few streets away from campus, and they've accused him of using his parents' money to get better grades. When Philip said no, he was just smarter than them, they'd taken a swing at him. His mother would no doubt be mad if he came home with bruises on his face again, but there's no way he can dodge in time.

Just then, Philip's entire body goes cold. One moment, he's controlling his own body like normal, and the next, he's standing next to his own body, and somebody else looks back at him with his own eyes.

John, in Philip's body, dodges the first swing with a grin that looks a little too elated. His eyes burn with defiance, and that only further angers the boys. One of them—Philip thinks his name might be Jacob, but to be honest, he's never paid much attention to either of them prior to this—takes a step forward, but before he can do anything else, John has him in a headlock. The other boy comes rushing at him, and John sweeps his legs out from under him. 

"Let me go," Jacob gasps. "I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone." Jacob and his friend seem to have realized they've made a mistake.

"Okay, just this once I'll let you go, but if you ever try anything again, I won't let you off so easily," John warns. John speaks with what Philip thinks at first is Philip's own voice, but no, it's a little deeper.

Jacob and his friend nod frantically. John lets Jacob go, and the two boys rush to get as far away as possible.

John dusts off his hands, and only once he's done does he turn to Philip and breaks out into a grin.

"Pip, do you know what this means?" His eyes sparkle.

"You can possess my body?" Philip asks. He's not as thrilled by the discovery as John seems, because, believe it or not, he likes being in control of his own body.

"I guess!" John starts off down the street with more pep in his step than Philip would ever be caught dead with, and Philip makes a deliberate effort to de-tense his nonexistent muscles.

To Philip's relief, neither his parents nor his siblings notice 'him' come in or attempt to greet 'him', and John as Philip arrives in Philip's room with no further incidents.

Only once the door is shut does John notice Philip's distress.

"You okay, Pip?" he asks, head tilted curiously.

"I think I'd like my body back now," Philip says through his teeth. "How did you possess me in the first place?"

"I'm not sure," John says. Philip rolls his eyes. "Helpful, I know."

"Fine." Philip concentrates, because that's the first step to most things. There's a kind of tugging feeling now that he hadn't noticed before, and he follows the feeling right back into his body. He sighs in relief, hugging himself reassuringly to remind himself he's not incorporeal any longer. John's beside him again, looking as see-through as usual.

"That was an experience," John says quietly.

They don't have the chance to experiment much.

Not that Philip would want to.

* * *

"Why would you challenge him to a duel?" John shouts. Philip flinches, and John feels a little guilty, but not enough to outweigh his anger. "Your father would be just fine if you didn't decide to duel someone just for slandering him once!"

"I don't know why I did that," Philip mutters, just loud enough for John to hear but not loud enough for anyone else to notice him talking to himself. "You don't have to yell at me." He's shaking, which John hadn't noticed at first. He's scared.

John sighs. He really doesn't know what to do with this boy, he'd practically raised him. He supposes it must have been Alexander who'd influenced Philip's impulsivity, or perhaps it was genetic. While he knows that, during the war, he'd had the impulsivity to match Alexander's, he'd learned to rein it in, but apparently Alexander hadn't changed in all that time.

"I'm sorry, Pip," John says. "I'm only mad because I care about you and I don't want you to get _shot."_ He'd thought Philip, at least, might be safe from a similar fate to himself. The war was over, after all, but of course, Philip had to go out of his way to fool around with guns—

"John?" he hears Philip ask softly, and he jolts. "Did... were you shot? Is that how you died?"

John takes a deep breath, reminding himself he's not in the war, he's not alive but he's not exactly dead either, so as far as he's concerned, he's _fine._ Philip isn't going to die. And speaking of, Philip's staring at him and obviously concerned, he doesn't want to make Philip worry.

"Yeah, I was," he says, relieved his voice holds steady. He realizes he's been rubbing at his scar. "Your father and I fought in the revolution together." Philip seems satisfied by this answer, and his hands shake less the rest of his way home.

Alexander jumps as Philip bursts into his study. "Philip, what—?"

"Pa, I need your help, I don't know how to duel," Philip blurts, and Alexander's face pales.

"And why do you need to do that?" he asks, voice dangerously low.

"George Eacker talked bad about you during his Fourth of July speech, and I challenged him to a duel," Philip says.

Alexander drops his face into his hands. "Betsey always said you were too much like me, and I understand now what she means." He uncovers his face to look seriously at Philip. "Was there any attempt at negotiation?"

"He didn't want to listen," Philip says.

"Where is the duel going to happen?"

"Across the river in Jersey," Philip says.

"Everything is legal in New Jersey," Alexander mutters. "Alright. So you're going to stand there confidently until Eacker arrives, and when you have to shoot, you shoot into the sky."

Philip avoids his gaze. "But what if he decides to shoot me?"

"If he's a man of honor, he won't shoot," Alexander says. John knows Alexander has no real reason to worry, but perhaps he ought to be worrying a little more. There's no way for Philip to back out now, but Alexander ought to show more concern. "Killing a man is something you can't take back, and I want you to really think this through. It stays with you forever, Philip."

"I..." Philip's eyes are fearful.

"I need you to promise me you're not going to take his life."

"I—I promise," Philip says.

Alexander lightly claps him on the shoulder. "As soon as you're done, come back home so I know you're safe. You can borrow my gun. Be careful and make me proud." Philip nods, but the moment he's left the room, his smile drops. He stares at the gun in his hand as if he's never seen anything like it before, and John supposes he probably hasn't. Alexander keeps it locked away, after all, and had to take it out specially for this.

"Let me do this," John urges, and Philip looks at him as if he's not really seeing him. "I've fired guns before, and I've dueled before. Let me take over your body."

Philip shakes his head. "No. I... have to be the one to do this." His grip tightens around the handle of the accursed weapon, and John wishes Philip could've lived a life entirely devoid of guns. Philip's stubbornness echoes his own, and he thinks perhaps that might be his fault, but he'll be damned if he didn't at least try to dissuade Philip in any way possible.

Philip's jaw is set, and he doesn't look at John, and that's when John knows he's lost him. No matter what happens, John had felt cracks form in their bond, and he isn't so sure it can be easily fixed.

He's helpless to do anything but watch as Philip takes his place by the river, shoulders set.

"Did it hurt?" John thinks at first he'd imagined it, but Philip speaks again. "When you got shot?"

John can't speak, just looks at him, but that's enough of an answer for Philip. He turns away just as Eacker arrives.

"So you're not only just like your father, but you're also crazy," Eacker calls across the field to Philip, and Philip glares. He holds firm, doesn't flinch.

"Be quiet," Philip says. "We came here to duel, so let's duel."

John is ashamed to admit he shuts his eyes in the leadup. He can't watch, but his morbid curiosity wins over at the very last second. He opens his eyes just in time to see Philip get shot.

Time slows. John is the first one to Philip's side, and Philip grips John's hand until his second—John hadn't bothered to learn his name, it wasn't important—is able to ease him onto the boat. Things happen around them—Philip is taken to the hospital, and a doctor looks at his wounds, but only one thing matters to John, and that's Philip. His eyes never leave Philip's face.

John hears a voice he faintly recognizes as Alexander's, and the man rushes into the room. For an instant, he swears Alexander must be able to see him. Alexander's eyes are haunted, but then he shakes his head, and the expression is gone.

John makes sure to stand behind Alexander and, later, Eliza, when she arrives, even though they wouldn't notice if he touched them.

The shock and anguish has faded some, and John is left with only the numbness. Eliza's worry sends a stab through his heart, but it soon calms again.

"I'm sorry," Philip says, and though he isn't looking anywhere in particular, John knows it's for him.

That must have been the last of his energy, because he falls back, eyes closed. John doesn't register what's happened until Eliza's scream rings through the room, and only then does it hit him.

Philip Hamilton, the boy John had helped raise, the boy who was stubborn and far too impatient, the boy who'd stopped writing songs when he was eleven.

He was dead.

Eliza collapses on Philip's chest sobbing, but John is far more interested in why Philip's body has started to glow around the edges. No one is paying it any attention, and as John watches, what can only be Philip's soul separates from its body. Philip stares at his hands, reminiscent of John's own in their translucence, then at his body, and then at John.

"Am I dead?" he asks. John nods, a sad smile gracing his lips. Philip takes a shuddering breath and moves to join John. He gets a good look at his parents, distraught at his loss, and John gets the feeling he'd be crying if he could. He pulls Philip in close, and Philip closes his eyes.

After a moment, Philip has composed himself. "I guess we'll have to wait for Pa and Mom, huh?"

John laughs. "Oh, I've waited this long for Alexander, what's the harm in waiting a few more decades?"

John's not alone anymore.


End file.
